


I Want to Hold Your Hand

by abusing_sarcasm (Camden)



Series: Kiss My Ass 'Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camden/pseuds/abusing_sarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Kiss My Ass. What happens after Dave and Kurt leave the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want to Hold Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: A little light bondage. A lot of fucking.

**I Want to Hold Your Hand**

Kurt wonders if perhaps he's being needlessly reckless by getting into a car with Karofsky, but honestly, he's been nothing but nice to Kurt tonight – including giving him the fuck of his life – and Kurt hadn't been being uncharitable when he'd said he found a use for Karofsky. He intends to get plenty of use out of him, too.

He's not a scared little boy anymore. Neither of them are. At nineteen, Kurt's nothing like he was at sixteen, and Karofsky doesn't appear to be, either. It's sort of nice. He feels mature. And pleasantly fucked-out.

Luckily, there's not much time for introspection as Karofsky's place is less than five minutes from the bar. Karofsky leads him into the building and to a room on the second floor. "It's not much," he says as he opens the door.

He's right; it isn't. But neither is Kurt's. All dorm rooms have a sameness underneath the posters and bedspreads. Now that they're here, things have become slightly awkward. He senses that Karofsky wants to talk, but Kurt doesn't want to hear it. He's over their high school drama, but that doesn't mean he wants to rehash it.

"Do you want a drink?" Karofsky asks, breaking the tense silence. "I don't think I have anything other than beer. I wasn't planning on bringing anyone here."

Kurt sniffs, unsurprised that Karofsky's hosting skills leave something to be desired. "I'll take a beer, I suppose."

While Karofsky's rummaging in the mini-fridge, Kurt comes to a quick decision. He kicks off his boots and strips his scarf and sweater, draping them over a desk chair. He figures the best way to sidestep the gab session is to put Karofsky's mind somewhere else. He thumbs open the button on his pants and tugs them down just enough to show off his hipbones.

When Karofsky turns around with a beer in each hand, he starts a little and nearly drops them. Kurt smirks, pleased with himself. "Put the beers down. We'll drink them later."

"I already opened them. They'll get flat," Karofsky says inanely.

"Fuck the beer. I'll buy you more. How about you lie on the bed?"

It gives Kurt the most beautiful sense of self-satisfaction to see how hurriedly Karofsky complies. Once he's on the bed, Kurt straddles him, sitting his ass right on top of Karofsky's cock.

"Ready so soon, Fancy? Are you always this hungry for it?" Karofsky asks, obviously trying for superior but ruining it with the way he's chewing his lip.

"Pretty much," Kurt says amiably. No sense in lying. "Why? Are you tired of me already? I thought you owed me one. Or ten."

Karofsky laughs, jiggling Kurt on his crotch. "I'll make it up to you. All of it. I bet I can fuck you hard enough that you'll forget high school."

Kurt wrinkles his nose, because honestly, the superior asshole attitude is sexier on him than it is on Karofsky.

Although he admits that the idea of just lying on his back with his legs in the air with Karofsky jackhammering him until he blacks out is appealing. So appealing. But so is the idea that Karofsky wants to make things up to him. It might make him a twisted fuck but the idea of exploiting that is intriguing. It's not like he hasn't thought about it before. Making Karofsky beg.

"You want to make it up to me?"

Karofsky's gaze slides away. "Of course. I mean, I am s – "

Kurt presses a finger on Karofsky's lips. "Save it, jockstrap. Let me have my way with you and we'll call it even. But I get to do whatever I want."

Karofsky nods, not even having the decency to look scared. He just agrees. Blind trust. It's sort of cute, but it's also sort of stupid. Well, Kurt had never figured him for a scholar.

"What if I want to... tie you up?" Karofsky nods again, not even trying to talk around Kurt's finger. "What if I want to _tease_ you?" he asks, sliding his hips across Karofsky's hard-on as he says it. Karofsky just nods.

"What if I want to fuck you?" he asks, shifting again.

Karofsky nods, breathing sharply against Kurt's finger. Kurt moves his hand, surprised and turned on by this development. "Really?" he asks, aware that his reaction is ruining his little dominant act.

"Dude, you think no one's ever fucked me before? You want it, you can have it, princess."

Kurt should be taking him to task over his choice of nicknames, but he's too intrigued by the possibility. He's thought about it before, although it had a darker edge to it when they were in high school. More in a not-strictly-consensual, I'll-prove-you're-a-fag angry daydream kind of way. Which he realizes is twisted, but he's owning it.

He doesn't tell Karofsky that, though. No sense in letting on that he's a sick fucker. He already knows Kurt's a little trampy. He has to keep some of his secrets.

Veering back to the topic at hand, he says, "I'm not sure I believe your claims. Do you even own a dildo?"

"Yeah," Karofsky says, pressing his hips up against Kurt. "Who doesn't?"

"How about a plug?"

"Two," Karofsky tells him, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Kurt can't have that.

"Beads?"

"Mmmm... Got me there. No beads."

"Then you're obviously a sad excuse for a bottom," Kurt declares with some triumph.

"Never said I was a bottom, idiot. I said I _have_ bottomed. _Do_ bottom. I don't trust a guy who won't get fucked. But what I like in bed, since you've been such a rude little shit and haven't even _asked_ , is to take home some pretty little slut, hold him down and open him up until he's screaming for it, and then fill him with my cock until he cries. And if he happens to be a mouthy bastard with an attitude problem, that's even better."

"I do not have an _attitude problem_ ," Kurt snaps, trying to deflect attention away from how hot Karofsky's little speech made him.

"Mmmhm. Well, I guess you're not my soulmate then, are you, Fancy? And I was so hoping for the white picket fence. Me coming home from work, you at the door in just an apron with our three Jack Russells at your feet. Handing me a glass of –"

Kurt has to kiss him then, because he's not sure how else to make him _stop fucking talking_.

The silence is blissful, but Kurt keeps the animosity up with his mouth. He's pretty sure at one point he bites the bastard, but fuck him anyway. He seems to like it. He's as twisted as Kurt is. What are the odds?

He's holding Karofsky's arms down against the pillow, and even though his hands can barely encircle the beefy forearms, Karofsky is letting him do it like he couldn't get up if he wanted to. It's got the same hollow not-satisfaction of someone letting him win a game, and he needs more. He needs some power that's real.

Kurt pulls away, gasping for air. "How about handcuffs?" he pants. "You own handcuffs?"

Karofsky says, "Kinky fucking bastard," like it's a bad thing, but he rolls onto one hip, Kurt riding him like a wave, and reaches into the nightstand drawer. He comes up with a pair of no-fucking-joke handcuffs. They're not the fuzzy, hang-from-your-rearview-mirror novelty kind – they're the real deal. Kurt's pretty sure his eyes light up like Christmas.

Kurt peels himself off Karofsky and stands up. "Clothes off. Then bondage."

"What's the safe word?" Karofsky asks, standing too and mocking Kurt with his eyes.

"The safe word is 'take your fucking clothes off or you'll wish you were never born,'" Kurt says calmly, shucking his pants.

Thankfully the idiot complies.

When they're both naked, there's another moment of awkward, like being all the way undressed is more _intimate_ than being mostly-undressed in a bathroom. Which it kind of is, he supposes, but they don't need to be pussies about it. Plus this light is much more flattering than the fluorescents.

Karofsky breaks the uncomfortable 'let's-look-at-each-other-critically' period by saying, "Hey, I like your tattoo. What song is that?"

"A Beatles song," Kurt says, crossing his arms so he covers the tattoo with one palm.

"It's not 'Helter Skelter,' is it?"

Kurt knows Karofsky's attempting a joke, but he's _sensitive_ about the tattoo. It's the first bar of the chorus of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" and he got it after his dad's second cardiac 'event.' His father is fine, healthy as a horse that has to be careful with its cholesterol intake, but he doesn't want to talk about any of that during sex.

Instead of the femmy 'please respect my feelings' route, he decides to go for short and sweet. "Talk later, handcuffs now."

Karofsky grins, the Beatles forgotten, and holds out his hands like Kurt's going to Miranda him. The headboard of the cheap dormitory bed is one smooth, flat piece of wood with nothing to cuff to, so Kurt has to improvise. "Floor," he says, pointing imperiously.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot your little fantasy about riding me like a pony," Karofsky says, looking pleased with himself. He's also fully hard now, and Kurt doesn't want to waste a second of prime wood.

"Floor," Kurt repeats. Karofsky gamely gets on the floor, and Kurt maneuvers him until he can cuff him right to the underside of the bed, threading the chain between two rows of springs and locking the cuffs neatly to each of Karofsky's big wrists.

"Damn, Fancy, you're like a sex MacGyver," he says, twisting a little to test his bonds.

"You had doubts?" Kurt asks, straightening up to examine his handiwork.

Karofsky fidgets a little under Kurt's scrutiny, but he waits patiently while Kurt examines him. He's totally Kurt's type, now that Kurt knows what his type is. Big all over, from his thick fingers that he clearly knows how to use, all the way down to his big feet – and isn't that stereotype accurate? He doesn't have washboard abs, but his stomach is hard and flat enough, not flabby at all. Everything about him is solid and hairy and _powerful_.

That makes it all the more delicious that he's lying on the floor, totally at Kurt's mercy.

Kurt kneels in between Karofsky's legs, running his hands up and down his big thighs. Karofsky's breathing more heavily now, his cock full and heavy against his stomach, and Kurt smiles. He's been dying to get his mouth on that monster since the first second Karofsky popped it out of his tacky-ass Wranglers.

He draws out the moment, though, tormenting them both. He'd promised teasing, and he always makes good on his promises.

"Why did you let me push you away?" Kurt asks, biting down hard on his lip as soon as he says the words. He hadn't meant to say anything at all.

"Wait, what?" Karofsky asks, clearly having trouble transitioning from waiting-for-a-blowjob to talking-about-feelings.

"Never mind," Kurt says, trying to salvage the moment.

Karofsky chooses the most fucking inconvenient times to not be a sweat-soaked simpleton, though, and he asks, "You mean in the locker room? When we... When I kissed you?"

"I said never mind."

"No, I do mind. Why _wouldn't_ I let you push me away? I'm not a _rapist_." Karofsky's face is painted with a decidedly unsexy combination of hurt and anger, and Kurt starts kicking himself immediately. "Why don't you let me out of here?" he says, twisting against the handcuffs.

"No," Kurt says, trying to salvage some of his dominance. "I don't know why I said anything at all. I don't want to talk. Not now. Let's just..."

Karofsky snorts. "Listen. Maybe I made you feel weak a lot of the time, and that sucked, okay? I know it. But when it counted, I let you be strong, right? So do it. Be strong. Be a fucking man, Hummel. Take back your power and all that gay shit."

"Shut up," Kurt snaps, but he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, and Karofsky's making a face like he's in the same boat.

"Dude, I'm _handcuffed to a bed_. Are we gonna chit-chat or are we gonna fuck?"

"We're going to fuck," Kurt says, feeling much better about the whole situation. He's not doing this out of some sick revenge now. He's doing it because he _wants_ to. And Christ, he wants to.

He doesn't want to tease anymore. With things settled well enough between them, and settled well enough with himself in his own head, he's ready. He leans down and licks a path up the underside of Karofsky's cock, meandering a little like he's mapping terrain.

So maybe he does want to tease a little. Whatever. Karofsky clearly likes it, as he's twisting against the handcuffs, his muscles bunching and changing shape as he pulls.

He's got the kind of arms Kurt loves, with muscles that don't come from yoga or Pilates, but from summer jobs lifting heavy things and having push-up competitions with his meathead friends. Real, _man_ -muscles that could pick Kurt up and throw him around like a rag doll. Well, if he wasn't currently handcuffed to a bed, that is.

"C'mon you little fucker. Suck it," Karofsky growls, clearly at his breaking point.

However, Kurt's in the mood to be contrary so he sits back on his heels. "That's not asking me nicely."

"Fuck you, Hummel."

Kurt laughs a little and gets up, bending over to rummage in the drawer where Karofsky kept the handcuffs. Karofsky groans when Kurt bends over, and with a sadistic smile, Kurt steps his feet a few more steps apart and bends farther. Karofsky makes a noise like he's being tortured and Kurt feels inordinately pleased with himself – more so after he turns up a decent-sized buttplug and a bottle of lube.

"I hope you don't mind me helping myself," Kurt says, sauntering back over.

"I'll forgive you if you come sit on my face."

Kurt's dick throbs a little at that, but he ignores it. "Maybe later. I have other ideas for now."

"I thought you didn't need any preparation," Karofsky teases, eyeing the plug.

"It's not for me," Kurt says, twisting it in his fingers.

"Whatever, man. Just do _something_!" Karofsky says, close to begging, which is too delicious.

"Bend your knees," Kurt says, deliberately keeping his tone light and pleasant, just because he knows it'll annoy Karofsky that much more.

Kurt kneels back down in between Karofsky's splayed legs. He's so vulnerable like this, so helpless. Kurt knows it's wrong that he's getting off on it, but he figures he deserves at least this much. He's getting off on the push-pull, the bi-polar 'I need you; I hate you,' of this whole affair. Neither of them can seem to figure out where their emotions are and it's making everything seem so intense.

Taking pity on Karofsky for once, Kurt smears his fingers with lube and leans down to suck Karofsky's cock into his mouth to take the sting out of the fact that he hasn't bothered to warm the lube in the least. Karofsky squirms a little when Kurt rubs his cold and slick fingers against his ass, but he seems focused on Kurt's mouth.

"You're such a pretty little cocksucker, aren't you?" Karofsky says, his voice almost crooning. "Always knew you would be. Always knew you'd look perfect with those pretty lips around my cock." He says it like he's not even aware that he's talking, and Kurt wants to be insulted by the objectification, which borders on creepy, but he feels warm and pleased.

He pushes his fingers against Karofsky's hole, starting out with two fingers because he's sure Karofsky can take it. He tries to take as much of Karofsky's cock as he can, but he can't even come close to taking all of it, even with his best relaxation techniques. He twists his fingers, stroking in just the right spot to make up for his oral shortcomings, and sucks Karofsky's cock down until he gags on it.

"Jesus-fuck, Hummel, don't kill yourself!" Karofsky pants. "I've never seen anyone take that much before. For such a little guy, you sure can take a fuckin' cock."

Kurt sits up, affronted. "I'm not _little_ ," he says, scissoring his fingers with perhaps more force than is necessary.

"Are so," Karofsky insists, twisting against the cuffs as Kurt spreads his fingers again.

"Shut up," Kurt says, grabbing the plug and swiping it with just a cursory amount of lube before he starts pressing it in. Karofsky doesn't complain other than a little grunt when the widest part goes in. Once it's all the way in, Kurt twists the base just to watch Karofsky strain against his bonds some more.

When he's satisfied, he gets up and rips a few paper towels off the roll on top of the microwave, wiping the lube off his hands. He turns to watch for a minute, just enjoying the sight of Karofsky all trussed up and filled for him.

He wants to fuck him, really, but there's time for that later. He's already on the floor and there's no reason why Kurt should waste that gorgeous cock. He saunters over to the nightstand again and grabs a condom.

"Thought you wanted to fuck me," Karofsky says, as Kurt starts rolling the condom on him.

"I do. Eventually," Kurt tells him with a little grin, standing up to rub some lube on himself, testing his hole gently for any soreness. "But you didn't seem to believe me when I said I could take you twice in one night, and you know I have to prove it. My pride is on the line."

"Well, in _that_ case, be my guest."

Kurt braces one hand on Karofsky's hairy chest and holds his cock upright with the other, slowly squatting down on top of him. The second time is always a mixed bag. On the one hand, he's still kind of stretched out, but on the other hand, he's a little battered and the re-stretching burns his abused flesh. He goes slowly, though, trying out each inch. His pride isn't worth hurting himself, of course, but there's no pain. He sinks all the way down with a pleased sigh, giving Karofsky his best 'I told you so' smirk.

"Oh fuck... You win, Fancy."

"Oh really? What's my prize?"

"You're sitting on it," Karofsky grunts, pushing his hips up against Kurt's ass. Smug bastard. Kurt would tell him to go to hell, but this _is_ a prize.

Kurt starts slow, rocking back and forth rather than up and down, working until he's got just the right angle. He strokes himself lazily, too, thinking about how hot Karofsky's going to look with Kurt's spunk all over his hairy chest.

"If you let me out of here, I could help you with that," Karofsky wheedles.

"Oh, I can handle it," Kurt says, rising up a little and dropping back down.

He wants to draw it out for a long time, just because, but he's already been teasing Karofsky – and himself – for the better part of an hour. He stretches both hands out, stroking Karofsky's chest as he changes up the angle. He rocks like that for a minute before he can't hold off anymore. He grabs one of Karofsky's knees with one hand, leaning back a little for optimal posting, and fists his dick with the other hand.

Using all the strength he's got left in his thighs, he does what he'd promised and rides Karofsky like a pony, slamming down onto his cock over and over again until he comes, shooting all over Karofsky's chest and stomach.

Karofsky's grunting and straining, clearly wishing he had the use of his hands. He's got both feet planted and he's showing considerable leg strength as well, bucking his hips upward in time with Kurt's thrusts. It only takes a moment after Kurt comes before Karofsky comes too, biting his lip hard like he's afraid he'll wake the neighbors otherwise.

Kurt waits a few seconds until Karofsky's cock has reduced in size enough that he can slide it free easily. He's going to be wickedly sore tomorrow, but right now, he feels completely satisfied. He ditches the condom and wipes himself off gingerly with some more paper towels before he finally goes back to attend to Karofsky.

"You gonna let me out now?"

"Probably," Kurt says. "Where's the key?"

"In the bottom of the drawer. I hope."

Kurt laughs. Wouldn't it just be fitting if the key were lost? However it only takes him a few seconds to find it. "We probably should have checked before I cuffed you to the bed," Kurt says.

"Yeah. Never been able to think very clearly around you," Karofsky admits with a sheepish smile.

Kurt ducks his head, highly flattered in spite of himself. He leans down and unlocks the cuffs, leaving them dangling through the bedsprings, just in case they need to use them again or something.

Karofsky sits up, rubbing his wrists. They're all red and raw, and before he realizes what he's doing, Kurt takes both of his hands, clucking over the damage. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd get hurt."

"I was the one doing the pulling. And m'fine." He pulls his hands away, looking a little embarrassed, like he doesn't deserve any care.

Karofsky stands up and takes a drink of one of the beers he'd opened earlier, wandering over to scrub at his chest with some paper towels. He's walking a little funny and Kurt realizes he's still got the plug in.

"Want me to take that out for you?" Kurt asks, giving him a little leer.

"Nah, gonna run to the bathroom and clean this up better anyway," he says, gesturing to his matted chest hair. "You mind?"

"Of course not. Go ahead," Kurt says, slightly put out that Karofsky doesn't want to be tended to. It's not like he even _deserves_ the kindness.

Karofsky throws on a blue robe and goes out the door. Kurt stands there for a moment, at a loss as to what to do. He's a little sticky, but he doesn't want to follow Karofsky to the bathroom. He finds some bottles of water in the fridge and wets a couple of paper towels and uses them to do a better clean-up job. Then he carefully puts the handcuff key back in the drawer, along with the bottle of lube.

He's just folding his pants and putting them over the back of the chair with his other clothes when Karofsky comes back in. He dumps the plug back in the drawer and then takes another drink of his flat beer.

"Well... Do you want me to go or what?" Kurt asks, biting his tongue as soon as he says it. He hadn't intended to sound so petulant.

"No!" Karofsky says, a little too loud in the quiet room. "I mean... Sorry. I just... You were actually being _nice_ to me and it freaked me out."

Kurt laughs. "Sorry, I forgot you liked, what was it? Mouthy bastards with attitude problems?"

Karofsky smiles. "Yeah, yeah. Also, that's like, no lie, the best fucking sex I've ever had. Both times. You're like... wow."

Kurt preens a little. He wants to say something mouthy and attitude-problemy, but if Karofsky can admit it, so can he. "Yeah, me too. You're pretty wow yourself."

They smile at each other like complete dorks for a few seconds before Kurt realizes he's still standing around naked, which is kind of weird. "I should probably get dressed."

"No, you should never be dressed," Karofsky says, leering at him. "Besides, you're not gonna leave, right? I mean, this is Detroit and it's the middle of the night. You're gonna stay here."

"Okay, fine. But can I borrow a t-shirt or something, because I feel kind of conspicuous."

Karofsky unties the belt of his robe and drops it off his shoulders. "Better?"

"You're so weird," Kurt says, but it is better.

"So... The bed's kind of small. You could sleep in my roommate's bed if you want. I mean, I'd understand."

Kurt wonders what the hell he's doing, honestly. It's _Karofsky_ for fuck's sake. The guy he's supposed to hate. He shouldn't be getting all mushy over some good – okay, fantastic – sex. Sex isn't _that_ important. But even as he's trying to tell himself that, he says, almost involuntarily, "We'll make it work."

Karofsky grins and flips back the bedspread. He climbs in and scoots all the way back against the wall. Kurt slides in next to him and Karofsky wraps his arms around Kurt, making him into the little spoon. They fit together really nicely.

Kurt idly traces the red marks on Karofsky's wrists. "Is this okay?" Karofsky asks, softly in Kurt's ear.

"I still don't like you very much," Kurt says, but Karofsky chuckles like he knows Kurt doesn't mean it anymore.

Karofsky slides one hand across Kurt's ribs, pulling him more tightly back against his chest. "My tattoo," Kurt says, squishing closer. "It's 'I Want to Hold Your Hand.'"

"Mmmm," Karofsky murmurs, sounding like he's already falling asleep. But then he lets his hand drop lower and nudges Kurt's hand. Kurt smiles and laces their fingers together before he follows Karofsky into sleep.


End file.
